


The Returned

by unwillingadventurer



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: M/M, monchevy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 16:17:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14023965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwillingadventurer/pseuds/unwillingadventurer
Summary: Philippe has waited so long to see the Chevalier once more.





	The Returned

With a slight tilt of his head, Philippe listened for the sound of approaching horses but instead there was silence. With each and every unknown noise outside the room he found himself unconsciously rising from his chair. The Chevalier was due to return to him at any moment, in fact he’d been expected an hour earlier but as usual he was fashionably late. Philippe took a tentative glance at the window, the shutters half closed behind him, blocking the bright sunshine that poured through the glass. 

When the carriage arrived at last, Philippe felt his heart thunder with excitement as the horses approached- never since battle had his heart raced so fiercely in his chest. He moved slowly toward the window, opening the shutter and peering outside like a nosy neighbour not wanting to be seen. He’d not even had one glimpse of the Chevalier, not for the longest time, and he wondered if the man had changed in his absence. 

From the window his view was obscured but he partly saw his love emerge from the carriage, and though he couldn’t make out every aspect of him, he could see brief glimpses of colour, a flash of blonde hair, beautiful shoes and a walk that was unmistakeable. He could hear the shoes passing over the grounds outside and a mumbling of voices as he walked closer to the doors. He shivered, sensing the Chevalier was getting closer and closer. 

He ran back to his seat and sat down. He’d waited so long it’d hardly pain him to wait a moment longer and yet he almost couldn’t bear that one minute of anticipation. He heard the Chevalier’s footsteps clip-clopping down the corridor like a trotting horse along the Paris streets, and he held his breath as the door handle began to turn, slowly, gently. He was coming.

He saw the face first, emerging from the shadow of the entrance into the light of the room. The angelic face of the Chevalier de Lorraine greeted him in all his splendour. The blonde curls were tighter and more prominent, cascading down onto his shoulders in glorious ringlets. He wore crimson fabrics which highlighted his flushed cheeks and he dressed more like someone who’d been on a grand European tour rather than someone who’d been incarcerated. He stood regally, hands on hips and a pose worthy of a king. 

“My darling,” the Chevalier said, his once regal frame loosening as his arms reached out toward Philippe with so much longing. 

Philippe slowly rose from his chair, the side of his mouth lifting ever so slightly into a subtle smile. “You’re late.”

“I had to look my best for you, mignonette.” 

Philippe looked over him again as the Chevalier drew nearer. Somehow Philippe felt the need to inspect his old love, to make sure he was not an impostor. He’d tried in vain for so many months to have the Chevalier returned to him that he scarcely believed him to be real, standing in front of him as he was in all his beauty.

“You do not like what you see?” The Chevalier remained cautiously a few steps back, his eyes tinged with sadness of a less than enthusiastic welcome.

“You’ve changed.”

The Chevalier placed his hand on his chest. “I assure you I am the same man.”

Philippe beckoned him closer. “Come here, let me see you properly.” 

The Chevalier approached, standing inches from Philippe and smiling broadly, waiting for the reunion he had longed for; dreamt of all his captive days. Philippe reached out one hand and gently stroked the Chevalier’s cheek, and closing his eyes, took a moment to compose himself. Touching the Chevalier’s flesh again sent tiny shivers down his spine. 

“Still soft,” he said. 

The Chevalier took Philippe’s hand and kissed it over and over. “I’ll admit my beauty regime was less than ideal for many months but since released I have tried to catch up. Now I’m as smooth as a baby’s bottom.”

There was an unexpected giggle from Philippe who almost immediately tried to pretend it never happened. He couldn’t allow himself to be happy yet, unsure of whether the minute he accepted any true bliss it would be snatched away and taken from him the way dawn took away the spirit of the night. First his beloved Henriette, then the Chevalier, and with both his soul.

“Have you missed me?” the Chevalier asked as he led Philippe to the sofa and pulled him down next to him.

“I have.”

A cheeky smile emerged on the Chevalier’s face. “What have you missed the most?”

“Everything.”

“The nights were long and cold without you, mignonette. Though I cannot say I am fond of your brother, I do however appreciate that he decided to let me return to you.”

“Don’t assume he did it for our benefit.”

“I care not at this moment. I only care about us.” He touched Philippe’s cheek and stroked his face. He ran his fingers over Philippe’s lips and leaned in. “May I?”

“You may.”

Philippe let the Chevalier kiss him. He’d forgotten how it felt, how the world faded away the moment his lips met his. He’d forgotten the taste, the hunger, the anticipation of what came next. At first the kiss was tender and almost chaste like two new lovers courting, getting to know one another for the first time, but then it became familiar and then more passionate and hungry and desperate. Their lips dared not to let go.

“I want you,” the Chevalier whispered with a bite to Philippe’s lip.

“I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life.”

It felt at last that Philippe knew that the real Chevalier had returned to him. He was no longer a stranger, an impostor, he was solid and flesh and blood and real- no longer the dream in his head, no longer the phantom in the night who called his name, no longer the empty space in his bed and his heart.

“We must make up for lost time,” the Chevalier said, running his hand through Philippe’s hair.

“That’s a lot of lost time to make up for.”

“I am up to the challenge if you are.”

Philippe ignored the Chevalier’s ravenous expression and smirked. “I think we shall eat first, you must be famished after that long trip.”

“I’m only hungry for you, my love.”

The Chevalier’s fingers were poised over Philippe’s body, eager to let them roam. 

“I know I’m delicious but I shall let you know when I’m ready to let you feast,” Philippe replied.

“Spoil sport,” the Chevalier whispered, “but very well, I shall wait. I suppose a feast of Philippe is worth savouring.”


End file.
